


The Spot Trilogy

by DamsonDaForge



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: ACTUAL FLUFF, Android Experiments, Blood and Injury, Breathlessness, Cats, Coughing, Devotion, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Happy Anniversary, Humor, Humour, Illnesses, Injury, Love, M/M, Married (in ch2 & ch3), Retching, Romantic Gestures, Something a bit lighter, Vomiting, daforge - Freeform, gross-out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamsonDaForge/pseuds/DamsonDaForge
Summary: Three separate, unconnected stories with Spot as the, ahem,catalyst for fluff, angst, injury and drama.Chapter 1 - When Data summons Geordi for assistance, the engineer can't quite believe what he finds.
Relationships: Data & Geordi La Forge, Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 11
Kudos: 101





	1. Fluff and Nonsense

**Author's Note:**

> This is a attempt at something a little lighter than I would usually write - my attempt at fluff and humour, if you will.
> 
> The subject matter is a little gross in chapter one and there will be graphic descriptions of injuries in chapter two, so if you are of a delicate disposition, the first and second chapters may not be for you. I tried, guys...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three separate stories with Spot as the, ahem, _cat_ alyst for fluff, angst, injury and drama.
> 
> Chapter 1 - When Data summons Geordi for assistance, the engineer can't quite believe what he finds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a attempt at something a little lighter than I would usually write - my attempt at fluff and humour, if you will.
> 
> The subject matter is a little gross in chapter one and there will be graphic descriptions of injuries in chapter two, so if you are of a delicate disposition, the first and second chapters may not be for you. I tried, guys...

It had been a pretty quiet morning in Engineering, thank goodness. The survey of the Chandra Nebula was going smoothly, now that Astrometrics and Planetary Dynamics had stopped scrapping over their sensor allocations. Geordi hadn’t enjoyed having to play referee between the two departments, but now they both had gigaquads of data coming in, they had blissfully left Geordi in peace.

He was sat at his console, bathed in the light of the warp core, running a couple of routine diagnostics when something strange happened. The antimatter flow rates he’d been studying disappeared, only to be replaced by a message from Data. Text. From Data. On his console.

**“My apologies, Geordi,” it read. “Please could you assist me in my quarters? Please bring my maintenance kit.”**

Panic ran through Geordi’s mind as he grabbed Data’s maint-kit from its locker. As he ran out of Engineering, he pressed his combadge.

“La Forge to Data.”

No answer. He knew there had to be a reason Data had used text to contact him, but he was desperate to talk to his friend. The lack of a response only sharpened Geordi’s nerves and he was running through all the possible malfunctions he might find.

It seemed to take an age to get up to Deck 17 and Geordi felt every one of those nineteen levels. He darted out of the lift the second the doors opened and he practically ran towards Data’s quarters.

Geordi jabbed the doorbell and announced his arrival.

“Data, it’s me.”

The door opened without any command audible from Data and Geordi was enormously relieved to see his friend sat on his sofa, apparently safe and well.

“What’s wrong?”

Data gestured towards a PADD, but before Geordi could read it, Data retched. He opened his mouth slightly, poked out his tongue and made a retching sound. After a moment, he did it again, his face a picture of concentration.

“ _What_ is going on?” Geordi asked, the bizarre sight not anything he had expected.

Data once again gestured towards the PADD and made another choking sound. Geordi read what was on the PADD, looked up at his friend in disbelief, looked back down at the PADD to confirm that, yes, indeed, he had just read what he thought he’d read and then he looked back at Data, who was still making that face and still making those noises.

“Okaayyyy,” said Geordi, not making any judgement.

He put his tool kit on Data’s table and opened it up, taking out the longest, narrowest needle-nosed pliers that he had.

“Right, lean back and open your mouth,” said Geordi. “And try not to move, alright?”

Data nodded and laid himself back over the couch with his mouth wide open. Geordi peered in, drilling down with his VISOR, trying to see the blockage.

“Okay, I think I see it. Can you open wider, Data?”

Data’s mouth stretched wider than any human's could, giving Geordi much better access.

“Yeah, yeah, I can see it. It’s clogging your pseudo-laryngeal folds,” Geordi mused. “No wonder you can’t talk. Okay, now hold still, I’m gonna try and get it out.”

Geordi carefully probed down Data’s throat with the pliers, leaning in close, his left hand splayed against Data’s jaw and along the side of his neck. He felt the mass, soft and spongy, as the tip of the pliers closed around it.

“Right, I’m going to pull it out, so hold still.”

Grimacing slightly, Geordi applied gentle but firm pressure and the blockage started to move. He pulled it out of Data’s mouth and dropped it on the couch next to Data.

It was a large mass of slightly damp, pale ginger cat hair.

Data gave an approximation of a cough and then spoke.

“Thank you, Geordi. That is quite the improvement.”

“Glad to be of service. _What_ the hell were you thinking?”

Before he could answer, Data coughed again, more loudly this time.

“There are still multiple cat hairs in the lining of my throat,” he informed Geordi.

“Let me get you something to drink.” Geordi went over to the replicator. “Computer, nutrient suspension number four, increase the mineral oil content 20%.”

He took it over to Data, who swallowed the large glassful in three gulps.

“Is that better?” he asked, looking down at his seated friend.

“That appears to have cleared the remaining hairs. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome, but you don’t get away with it that easily.”

“To what are you referring?” Data asked, all innocence.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Geordi, a little firmly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He was pretty sure it wasn’t his imagination, Data did at least appear to have the good grace to look a little sheepish.

“I had noted that Spot did not seem to enjoy being groomed by me.”

“Don’t cats look after themselves in that department?”

“Longer-haired breeds such as Spot require additional intervention.”

“Fair enough. So how did you get from brushing to… licking?” Geordi asked.

“I had researched the grooming habits of the domesticated cat and found that a strong bond is formed following birth when the mother grooms her kittens. This behaviour continues, maintaining that closeness and family bond.”

“So… you were being mommy-cat? Of course you were,” said Geordi, slowly, slowly wrapping his head around what Data had been doing.

“I surmised that Spot may respond in a more positive manner if my grooming more closely mimicked that of her earliest experiences.”

His friend’s curiosity genuinely knew no bounds and his capacity for the creative sating of that curiosity was astonishing.

“And did she?”

“She purrs most contentedly.”

“Are you going to keep this up then?” Geordi asked, probably guessing the answer.

“I have not yet completed the initial series of experiments that I had intended.”

“But…?” Geordi said, by way of encouragement.

“The effects have thus far been encouraging.”

“We should probably incorporate a trans-oesophageal cleanse into your weekly maintenance cycle.”

“That would be prudent.”

Geordi smiled at his friend, who had embarked upon this madness to make his cat feel better. Data had, in the space of less than five minutes, managed to scare, baffle, disgust, annoy, fascinate and finally charm Geordi. There wasn’t anyone else he knew who was capable of even half of that. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Geordi acknowledged how lucky he was to know such a remarkable person and that he was able to call them his friend.


	2. Spot in the Doghouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three separate, unconnected stories with Spot as the, ahem, _cat_ alyst for fluff, angst, injury and drama.
> 
> Chapter 2 - Geordi suffers a horrible injury at the paws of the capricious Spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the injuries and blood and the more adult content, so please avoid if that will bother you.

Geordi stepped out of the shower and, as he towelled himself dry, he listened to his new husband, beautifully singing an aria as he got breakfast ready. Geordi’s heart swelled. There was still a part of him that couldn’t quite believe all this was real. Married and moved in together. Wedded bliss. And it had been. Complete and utter bliss.

As Geordi wandered into the bedroom, the towel that he’d wrapped around his waist slipped to the floor. He bent down to pick it up and something thudded into his groin. Something furry. Something sharp. Geordi let out a howl of pain and collapsed to his knees, his hands clamped between his legs.

“What has happened?” Data’s voice demanded.

“Your _fucking_ cat,” Geordi ground out, a pain like he had never felt swamping his mind. Searing, burning, thumping pain right in the root of him.

“You are bleeding,” Data said, helping him to his feet.

Doubled over, Geordi let Data lead him over to the bed. He was trying not to think too hard about the damage Spot’s claws might have done, but he knew he was bleeding. He could feel it on his fingers. He could feel it trickling down his thighs.

“The bed is one half metre ahead,” said Data.

The covers brushed against Geordi’s knees and he awkwardly lay down, hands holding tight, trying to hold back the pain, trying and failing.

“Data to Dr Crusher. Medical emergency in our quarters.”

“What’s happened,” came her immediate reply.

“Geordi has suffered… an intimate injury.”

“I’m on my way.”

Geordi lay on his side, curled into himself, cupping himself, pain twisting through his groin and up into his belly. It seemed to take an age for Beverly to arrive and all but for a few of those long minutes, he could feel Data hovering over him.

Finally, the door chimed and Data let Dr Crusher in.

“What happened?” Beverly said again, her voice higher than before, her doctorly training apparently not quite having prepared her for the scene in front of her.

“Spot tried to castrate me,” Geordi groaned, hearing the sounds from Dr Crusher’s tricorder as she began to scan him.

“She did not try to castrate you Geordi,” Data said. “That is an exaggeration.”

“Hey,” Geordi responded sharply, “when it’s your balls she’s tried to rip off, then you get to decide.”

“I do not have ‘balls’ as such. I have an anatomical representation.”

“Gentlemen, please,” said Beverly. “Can we leave the recriminations for later?”

“Of course, Doctor,” said Data.

“How bad is it?” Geordi asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Beverly’s response wasn’t entirely reassuring. “Probably not as bad as you think. Can you let go? I need to examine you. The tricorder can only tell me so much.”

He really didn’t want to, fearing something might drop off if he did. But slowly he relaxed his grip, his fingers sticky with congealing blood, so he could let Doctor Crusher take her first look at the damage.

“Oh,” was all she said at first. “Oh, Geordi.”

He was desperate to know and _not_ know at the same time. Schrodinger’s cock. It hurt _so_ bad, he was imagining all sorts.

“Come on,” he said, feigning bravery, “you can’t leave it at that.” 

But before Beverly could reply, Data supplied, “There are two long tears in the right side of your scrotum. There is also a single injury that has laid open the shaft of your penis.”

“Oh my God, Data!” said Geordi, horrified at what he’d just heard. He felt Beverly’s hand on his arm, settling him down.

“It’s nothing I can’t heal,” she said. “You’ll be fine. Some pain relief is coming now so I can treat you.”

He felt the press of the hypospray and a few seconds later, the flood of whatever painkiller Dr Crusher had administered spread into his veins. The sharp, dull, fierce throbbing began to subside and he finally felt able to relax a little, letting his body sink into the bed.

“That’s good,” said Beverly. “Data, I have to say, this is not the first nasty injury I have had to treat because of Spot.”

“I am aware that she has… occasionally allowed her instincts to dominate over her more domesticated qualities.”

“Stop making excuses for her!" Geordi yelled. "Look what she’s done to me, Data! You’re lucky I don’t put her out of the nearest airlock.”

“Please, Geordi, do not put my cat out of the airlock.”

“Of course I won’t!” Geordi shouted, frustrated, shaken up and not a little pissed off at Data’s staunch defence of his pet.

“Let’s calm things down, shall we?” Beverly suggested.

“I’m calm,” said Geordi, feeling anything but.

“As am I,” said Data.

“Good,” Beverly soothed. “Good. Now, Geordi, you’ve got a three-stage procedure to go through, it won’t take long for the vascular and dermal regeneration, a few minutes, but there is some nerve damage in your penis. That will take a little longer to fully heal.”

“What are we talking about, here?” Geordi asked, again uncertain as to whether he wanted the honest answer or not.

“Seven to ten days,” said Beverly. “And you’ll have to abstain.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m so sorry, Geordi.”

He lay there, staring into nothing, taking in the enormity of what Beverly had just told him.

“But that’s our whole honeymoon!” he cried.

It had been a logistical nightmare to organise and that was without Data’s initial encyclopaedic list of possible destinations that they’d had to narrow down. In two days’ time they were due to fly to Soldan VI for a three-day beach holiday on the equatorial islands and then spend five days sailing on one of their traditional tall-masted ships. Suffice to say, sex had also been a big part of their plans.

“There’s nothing you can do?” he said, knowing that he was whining but honestly past caring.

“Nerves take longer to heal than other tissues,” Beverly said. “It’s a fact I can’t change. I wish I could.”

“We will still be able to enjoy the vacation,” Data said.

“Yeah,” Geordi replied. “A honeymoon without sex. Sounds perfect.”

Dr Crusher asked him to try to relax and she began to treat the wounds. Geordi felt the heat of the regeneration as the beams began to knit his skin back together. He lay there, cursing that damn cat and her vicious claws.

When Dr Crusher had left, Geordi sat up. 

“Where is she?” he asked warily, still not wearing his VISOR.

“If you are referring to Spot, I have placed her in her ‘naughty box’.”

Geordi grunted in satisfaction and thought about going to get his second shower of the morning.

“I am sure there was no malice in her act,” Data said.

“Are you?”

“She may have thought your genitalia were a plaything.”

“That’s not making me feel any better.”

“I am sorry that she injured you and for the lingering effects. It is most unfortunate timing.”

“Almost like she planned it,” Geordi muttered, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting on the edge. 

“You are attributing motivations to Spot which she does not possess. She is a cat, not a master criminal.”

“Tell that to my crown jewels,” Geordi said.

He gingerly touched himself, testing around his balls and down the shaft of his penis. He was a little bit sore and there was a strange numbness to go along with it, but it was a thousand, it was a million times better than it had been.

Still somewhat grumpy, he headed back into the shower and after cleaning off the dried blood and getting dressed, Geordi sat down to their belated breakfast. Data was cooking, actually cooking (it was his new thing) eggs and bacon over at their small kitchenette.

He could see Spot, in her ‘naughty box’. It was a large cage in the corner of the room with a soft blanket folded in the bottom. Geordi could also see that Data had put several of her favourite toys _and_ a catnip pouch in with her.

Data brought over the food and began to serve Geordi’s plate.

“I know she’s your cat, Data, but I don’t think rewarding her for what just happened is a particularly good idea.”

“Although you call it her ‘naughty box’ and I have also begun to use that designation, I do not feel comfortable using it to punish Spot. It was meant to be a place that she would find agreeable to spend time in, allowing you to remove your VISOR and move freely around our quarters, safe in the knowledge you would not be tripped by her.”

“I know, but now she’s going to think ripping my dick off is going to get her catnip.” The prospect of which, understandably, didn’t exactly fill him with joy.

Data didn’t have an immediate response. He looked pensive and he was glancing at Spot as she repeatedly bit down and squirmed on the pouch. He looked lost, standing there holding an empty frying pan. Geordi started to feel bad for his husband, stuck as he was between the two loves of his life.

“I may have made an error in judgement on this matter,” Data said eventually and he bent down and kissed Geordi’s cheek. “I am sorry.”

Geordi looked up at his husband and sighed.

“I know you are, love. Come here.” Geordi pulled Data into a deeper kiss. “We’ll make the best of it, okay? We’ve waited too long for this. Our honeymoon is going to be amazing, I promise you.”


	3. Cat Scratch Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three separate, unconnected stories with Spot as the, ahem, _cat_ alyst for fluff, angst, injury and drama.
> 
> Chapter 3 - Illness forces Data and Geordi to make a tough decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has the illness and breathlessness, but has no injury or grossness (that I can think of). There is a cameo from Reg Barclay and Dr Crusher is here too.

Geordi was sat on the sofa, going over some diagnostics from earlier in the day whilst he waited for Data to get off shift. Some kind of intractable negotiation the Bridge crew were involved in meant he’d been getting back late all week. Geordi coughed, clearing a tickle in the back of his throat and scrolled to the next batch of analytics.

Spot wandered over and after taking a long second or two to prepare herself, she jumped up onto Geordi’s lap.

“Hey, old girl,” Geordi said, moving his PADD to make room for her.

He gave her ears a scratch and she meowed at him. She’d never been that vocal, at least, not with him, but lately he’d noticed that she’d been seeking him out a little more. Butting at his hand for affection, twirling around his ankles and meowing up at him. She did that now, she yowled at him and nudged his hand because he’d stopped stroking her.

“Going soft in your old age?” he said to her, coughing into his inner elbow as his hands were full.

Giving Spot a bit of attention, Geordi carried on with his review, sending updates to his team leaders for tomorrow’s briefing until Data entered their quarters.

“Good evening, Geordi. How was your day?”

Geordi opened his mouth to greet his husband but an intense tickle chose that moment to attack his nose and instead he sneezed loudly.

“ _Gesundheit_ ,” Data said, unfazed.

Geordi sneezed again and then coughed.

“Are you ill?” Data asked, moving to his side and placing the back of his hand against Geordi’s forehead.

“No, I feel fine.”

“You do not appear to have a temperature. Are you sure you are alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, feeling the need to cough again.

Data’s head tilted. “In the last week you have coughed or sneezed eighty seven times. This is well above the average. I also note, there has been an upward trend over the past month. You should visit Sickbay. Something is not right.”

“I don’t feel ill,” said Geordi.

“If you are still coughing in the morning, will you go to see Dr Crusher?”

He sighed, but that just made him want to cough again. He pushed down on the urge and said, “I promise.”

They ate a late dinner and then Geordi fell into bed and into a deep sleep.

“Geordi!”

Data was shaking him awake. He opened his eyes and groped for his VISOR, immediately aware the tightness in his chest was worse than ever and that he was wheezing for breath. As his vision jolted into his brain, he could see Data and Spot sitting on the bed with him, as he struggled to get a full breath into his lungs.

“What is wrong?” Data asked.

“I feel a bit breathless,” he said, trying to sound casual but actually feeling anything but. He coughed and then coughed again and then he couldn’t stop. Spot shot off the bed, irritated by the noise and went into her den.

“Geordi,” said Data, rubbing his back to try to ease the coughing fit. “Do you want me to call for a doctor?”

He shook his head. It was hard to catch his breath but he did feel like things were easing up a little. After a few minutes he could breathe almost normally.

“Was that a panic attack?” Data asked.

Geordi still had them, from time to time, and Data had witnessed and supported him through his fair share of night terrors and bad dreams. This didn’t feel like that, it was wholly different in character, but in a way he couldn’t quite articulate.

“No, it wasn't.”

“Then we should go to Sickbay.”

“Not now,” said Geordi. “I feel better. If I didn’t, I would say.”

“Then I must insist that we visit Dr Crusher tomorrow.”

“Scouts honour,” Geordi said.

“You were never in the scouts.”

Geordi grinned at his husband. “Just kiss me and let me go back to sleep.”

“As you wish.”

A quick, sweet kiss and Geordi clicked off his VISOR and lay back down, now with Data’s arm curled protectively around his body.

*~*~*~*

“Asthma,” Dr Crusher said.

“You’re kidding me,” Geordi said.

“And you’re allergic to Spot.”

Silence met Dr Crusher’s diagnosis. They had gone to visit her after their shifts had ended.

“But… but I’m fine with cats,” Geordi protested. “I had one when I was a kid and it was fine.”

“You can get an allergy from practically anything and at any time. She was sleeping on the bed with you last night?”

Geordi and Data both nodded.

Dr Crusher continued. “The standard cure is Vexamine or one of its derivatives, but your history suggests you’ll be allergic.”

“I’m allergic to the allergy treatment?” Geordi said in disbelief.

“It happens. Leave it with me. In the meantime, this will settle down your immune response.” Beverly delivered the hypospray. “And if you feel short of breath or have trouble breathing again, come back immediately.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Geordi hopped down off the biobed and took Data’s hand.

“Let me know if I can be of any assistance,” Data said.

“Thank you, Data.” Beverly said, smiling knowingly at them both.

They wandered back to their quarters, neither one really speaking. When they entered, Geordi paused, just inside the door, his hand spread over his chest. He could feel a slight tightness that he hadn’t really noticed before, almost as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“You know, coming back in here, I can kind of feel it.” 

“It will not be healthy for you and Spot to remain in close confinement. Lieutenant Barclay,” Data addressed the comm system.

“Y-yes, sir?” came the uncertain response.

“May I ask a favour of you? Would you be willing to look after Spot for a few days?”

“Uh, I will, I w-would be happy to, sir.”

“Would you come to our quarters presently. It is a matter of some little urgency.”

Geordi smiled at Data’s overly dramatic phrasing, but then he felt that tightness, that tickle in the back of his throat and recalled how difficult it had been to breathe the night before. Perhaps his husband had a point.

After Reg had collected Spot and her toys and taken on board Data’s extensive cat-care briefing, his husband addressed the computer.

“Engage full cleaning cycle to commence in five minutes. Include complete air filtration.”

“Want to get dinner in Ten Forward?” Geordi suggested.

It wasn’t wise to be present for a complete air recycling procedure and so they made their way down a couple of decks, ate dinner and talked about nothing, trying to keep Data’s mind off Spot’s exile.

*~*~*~*

A few days’ later, Dr Crusher called them into her office.

“I’ve got some not so great news. Geordi, genetic analysis of your profile confirms you’re not a candidate for Vexamine and that you would also react severely to the other standard treatments that are available. We could attempt a re-sequencing of your genome, to remove and replace the over-reactive series of codons, but that is a huge step for what is currently a moderate reaction. The simpler and far less radical solution is for you to not share your living space with a cat. Data, I’m so sorry.”

“I had considered the possibility,” said Data. “I am prepared to permanently re-home Spot.”

“She’s an old girl, Data,” said Geordi. “That’s kind of a shame.”

“It is not something I would freely choose. However, your health is more important. If Lieutenant Barclay is happy to take Spot in on a long-term basis, I am sure he would let me visit with her.”

Data sounded so regretful, so reluctant, it hurt Geordi’s heart. The two of them, Data and Spot, had been together for nearly fifteen years and Geordi felt a dreadful, wrenching sort of guilt that he was going to be the cause of their enforced separation.

“I’m sure he would too,” he said softly.

*~*~*~*

“La Forge to Doctor Crusher,” Geordi said to the comm system.

He was excited, because after weeks of digging, he’d found something. Trawling back into what turned out to be more than a century of research into allergy treatments, Geordi thought he had a solution.

He’d embarked on his massive research programme after getting back from work one day to find Data sat on their sofa, staring at a purple feather held delicately in his fingers. There had been a look of complete distress on his beautiful face. He had looked up at Geordi with what could only be described as profound loss in his eyes.

“It is from one of Spot’s toys,” he had said simply, just about breaking Geordi’s heart.

“Where did you find it?” Geordi had asked.

“It had become trapped between the seat cushion and the armrest of the sofa.”

“You want to go visit with her tonight?”

Data had nodded and he’d gone over to Reg’s and played with her, arriving back as he always did, with wet hair and a changed uniform having showered and disposed of his ‘contaminated’ clothing before returning home.

“Geordi, hi,” said Dr Crusher. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I might have found something. Can I come over and talk it through?”

“Sure,” Beverly replied, though she sounded anything but ‘sure’ and he wasn’t surprised. If she’d come to him with her thoughts on how to improve the warp engine’s efficiency, he’d have sounded sceptical too.

She had done him the courtesy of listening to his discovery, tapping her stylus thoughtfully against her lips as he explained.

“It’s old,” she said, looking over the notes he had compiled. “But I can see it would work.”

“Would it work for me?”

“There’s no reason why not, not that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say! Well?”

“Well, what?”

“When can we get started?”

“Hold on a second, Geordi. Let me check this out and get back to you. It’s a big commitment.”

“Not really,” he said, not seeing it that way at all.

Beverly smiled at him, that soft yet knowing smile that made her eyes shine even through his VISOR. “If you say so.”

Less than a day later, Beverly had got back to him with great news. It all checked out and she was happy to commence the treatment. It would be a year or so before it was complete, with weekly injections and strict monitoring. Beverly had explained there were risks, that they were very low, but very serious should they occur and any symptoms, however small, were to be reported to her without delay.

“I understand. And, if possible, I’d like to keep this as a surprise.”

The treatment should be finished just before their third anniversary. The timing should be perfect.

Beverly had raised her eyebrows at that. “Good luck keeping your weekly visits off Data’s radar.”

“I like a challenge,” Geordi replied with a smile. 

“You certainly do.”

Data was incredibly observant, but he was also breathtakingly innocent and Geordi wasn’t above using that childlike trust to gently pull the wool over his wonderful husband’s eyes.

*~*~*~*

Eleven months after his treatments had begun, Geordi was in Dr Crusher’s office with his sleeve rolled up.

“Okay,” she said. “You’ll feel a small scratch and then we wait.”

“Go for it.”

Beverly took a long needle, dosed with allergen, and scraped it down the inside of Geordi’s forearm, a little way above his wrist. They both watched the thin line that had been etched into his flesh, waiting, hoping that nothing happened.

“You feel alright?” Beverly asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t feel short of breath or hot?”

Geordi shook his head.

“There’s no itchiness? You don’t feel the need to scratch the mark?”

“No, not at all.”

“This is good,” Beverly said, scanning the area with her medical peripheral. “There is no histamine reaction to the allergen, just the expected immune response to an ordinary scratch.”

“So…” Geordi prompted.

“It’s looking good, but I want you to stay in Sickbay for the next hour. If you have no reaction after that, I think we can say that you’re cured.”

Geordi broke out into a huge smile. “Cured. Not treated. Not medicated. Cured?”

Beverly nodded. “Cured.”

Just over an hour later, Geordi left Sickbay walking on air. He’d given Reg the head’s up a couple of weeks ago, swearing him to secrecy on pain of death. Barclay had clearly been upset, but he had taken the news with good grace and humour.

*~*~*~*

Geordi had told Data he was arranging their anniversary dinner this year and to keep away from Decks 8 and 9 unless there was at least a Red Alert.

“If there is a Red Alert, my place would be on the Bridge, not on the residential decks.”

“You know what I mean,” Geordi had smiled.

“I believe so. I am intrigued by the implied surprise.”

“I’ve got something special in mind,” Geordi nodded. “And I don’t want to you stumble over it before it’s ready.”

Data’s eyes had widened like a child’s on Christmas Eve. “I am very much looking forward to this evening,” he said.

“So am I,” said Geordi and he kissed his husband goodbye. “See you tonight – not a second before nineteen thirty hours. Okay?”

“Not one second,” Data agreed.

Geordi was nervous and giddily excited. It wasn’t as bad as the night before their marriage ceremony, but it honestly wasn’t far off.

He’d booked a couple of hours off to get everything ready. His first stop was to Lt Calloway, to pick up Reg’s thank you gift. The box in his hands was incredibly light and he easily passed it into one hand to ring Reg’s door.

“Come in, Commander,” Barclay said and the doors slid open. “All packaged and ready,” he reported.

His engineer couldn’t hide his disappointment and his sadness though, his awkwardness and hand-wringing ratcheted up a notch from his usual.

“I want to thank you Reg, on behalf of Data and myself. I wanted to get you something to show how grateful we are.”

Geordi handed Reg the box. “Be careful with it,” he said. “It’s pretty fragile.”

Reg smiled uncertainly at him. “What is it?” he said, looking at the box with a mixture of curiosity and terror.

“Why don’t you set it down gently on the table and open it up?” Geordi suggested.

“Okay,” said Reg as if he was agreeing to fire a phaser at his own head.

Barclay opened the box with shaking fingers and a tiny meow greeted Reg’s gaze. He looked up at Geordi in amazement.

“F-for me?” he managed, looking back into the box as a tiny, grey tabby tried to crawl out.

“To say thanks, for everything you’ve done for me and Data.”

“What’s her name?” Reg asked in wonder, cradling the ball of fur to his chest.

“I don’t know, Reg. She’s your cat.”

“Commander… I… I… can’t thank you enough. Thank you.” He looked like he might cry. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Reg. You’ve been great and until I hit on this idea, asking you to do this—” Geordi gestured at the package Barclay had gotten ready for him. “It just didn’t feel quite right.”

“That… is so thoughtful. So thoughtful. Thank you, so much.”

“I’ve got to get going,” Geordi said, picking up the package.

“Good luck with tonight, Commander,” said Reg.

“Thanks to you, it’s off to a great start.”

Everything was ready. Well almost. It wasn’t quite seven yet and Data wasn’t due till half past. Geordi sat down on the sofa. Then he stood up and fussed at the place settings and straightened the candles, all the while debating whether to swap the flowers in the centre-piece. A sudden crisis of confidence over his choice of meal then led to a fifteen minute faff with the replicator before he settled back on his original decision.

He’d confided in Deanna part of his plan and she’d told him that it didn’t need to be perfect, that it would be wonderful whatever happened. He’d agreed at the time and it made total sense, but now his perfectionist tendencies were starting to manifest and the need to anticipate every potential problem started to take over. It was a great trait in an engineer, not always so great in a romantic relationship.

He would have to leave the wrapping of the package to the last minute and it was that unfinished aspect of the whole that was really bothering him. He wanted it all settled and sorted and he wouldn’t be able to properly relax until that was done. The large carry-case had been set down in the centre of the wrapping paper on the coffee table, so all he needed to do was gather it up and tape it down.

He asked the computer what the time was for what _felt_ like the hundredth time. Less than five minutes. When it got to sixty seconds, Geordi asked for a countdown. He’d told Data not a second before seven-thirty and if one thing was for certain in this universe, it was Data and punctuality.

On forty-five seconds, Geordi folded the paper around the case and taped it up.

“Won’t be long,” he said as the seconds ticked away.

“ _Five, four, three, two, one_.”

As the computer concluded its countdown and the doors to their quarters opened. Data stepped inside, his keen, curious gaze taking in the candle-lit table, the large gift wrapped in gold paper and finally Geordi himself, dressed in a shirt the computer had told him was emerald green. He wore dark grey pants and black polished dress shoes.

“This looks wonderful,” Data said, his eyes wide. “You look wonderful.”

They embraced and kissed.

“Happy anniversary, Data,” Geordi said. “I love you.”

“Happy anniversary, Geordi. Is this my gift?” Data asked, moving away from Geordi’s embrace.

He couldn’t help but smile at Data’s not-so-subtle, childish excitement. “Yeah, it’s for you.”

“May I open it now? I have been anticipating the nature of your gift since you first intimated its existence.”

“Sure you can open it. Go ahead.” 

Data knelt by the coffee table, his back mostly to Geordi. Having heeded Wesley’s advice from all those years ago, Data tore into the paper with abandon. Then his sudden, exuberant movements halted and he appeared to be frozen in place. Seconds passed.

“Data?” Geordi said, suddenly certain, suddenly horribly sure he had made a huge mistake.

“Geordi,” Data replied.

He turned his head slowly towards him and there was a look of utter confusion on his husband’s face.

“Data?” Geordi said again, trying to prompt something more from him.

“It is Spot,” Data stated, still clearly baffled by the gift.

“Yeah, it’s Spot.”

Data was looking down at his cat as she butted her head against the bars, that same confusion visible all over his face.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Well… it’s… um…” Geordi realised that the one thing he hadn’t planned for was Data not getting it. “She can come live with us again,” he said.

“Geordi, she cannot. She will make you ill.”

“No, she won’t. I’ve been having a treatment. I’m not allergic anymore.”

Data’s face grew even more confused, his face crumpling as he tried to reconcile the conflicting evidence that he was party to.

“There was no prospect of a cure in your case,” Data said. “Has Dr Crusher made a breakthrough?”

“Not… not exactly. I found an old cure that had been abandoned about 150 years ago.”

“What cure?” Data said, stroking Spot through the bars of the case, but not yet satisfied enough with Geordi’s explanation to let her out.

“Desensitisation. You get weekly injections that start off with almost no allergen present and then build up slowly.”

“I see,” said Data, taking in what Geordi was saying. “Please continue.”

“Over time, your body learns to not react to the allergen and after about twelve months or so, you’re cured. For good.”

Data’s head ticked sharply, three times in quick succession.

“This has been a year in the planning?” Data asked.

Geordi nodded, his throat dry and his heart hammering.

“You have been having injections every week,” Data said, almost to himself. “For almost twelve months. Hmmm!” 

“I’m… I’m sorry that I had to lie to you. About where I was going sometimes… I… I wanted this to be a surprise.”

“It was very definitely a surprise. I could not have anticipated this sequence of events.”

Data opened the door of Spot’s case and she jumped into his arms.

“Hello, Spot,” Data said, gazing down at his cat in wonder and adoration.

“So… we’re good?” said Geordi.

“We are good. More than good. I find I do not know what to say.”

Data was quiet for an uncharacteristic length of time, all the while stroking and petting that long, reddish fur, the deep purr and Data’s gentle hand in perfect harmony. 

“I do not think you can fully comprehend what this means to me. Spot has been a special part of my life and you have done something wonderful. I do not know what to say.”

“Well, could you just hold me?” Geordi asked. “I could kind of do with a hug right about now.”

“Of course.”

Data placed Spot on the floor and gathered Geordi into his arms. As they held each other tightly, Spot entwined around their ankles and their small family was united once again.


End file.
